Roulette
by torpens
Summary: It was the sound of heavy hearts and guarded breathing. It was the click of the barrel as it spun, a destructive force all on its own. The room seemed to darken as all the nose came to an end. No breath, no click, nothing. The gun was raised to soft blonde locks and a trembling finger was brought to the trigger. (I might continue this based on what you guys think!)


It was the sound of heavy hearts and guarded breathing. It was the click of the barrel as it spun, a destructive force all on its own. The room seemed to darken as all the nose came to an end. No breath, no click, nothing. The gun was raised to soft blonde locks and a trembling finger was brought to the trigger.

"Your turn."

Brown eyes wavered slightly and he wondered how he'd gotten into the situation. After watching three people get off free from the bullet, he had a bad feeling sitting in the pit of his stomach. It was going to be his time, huh? Of course it wouldn't kill him, but the damage it could be irreversible. He wasn't sure how it would work. After all, he'd never been shot in the head.

Everything was silent as he cocked the gun, using the barrel to brush away the hair at his temple and shut his eyes tightly. The eyes of those around him shined with anticipation. It was a bar game gone horribly wrong and now he was paying the price. _One_. _Two_. He took a deep breath, lips moving slightly as he counted up. It was time and he couldn't hold the show up any longer. He hoped they enjoyed. _Three._

Without a bit of hesitation, he pulled the trigger. He was on the ground, gone, before anyone had a chance to scream or to lunge forward. There was pain, behind his eyes, searing hot, white. But everything was black.

It was funny how bullets to the head didn't quite heal up like other wounds. There'd been so much blood, it was... It was a miracle that he didn't die, even for someone _like him_. When he finally came to, he was surrounded by nothing, blackness. He drew a hand up to his face, catching a cloth over his eyes and let out a nervous noise. Or, he tried, but no noise escaped his lips. There was no more pain, either. His chest moved erratically and he focused on the only thing that stood out from the cotton of his clothing; an ache in his hand, something sharp digging into his palms. The harder he focused, he realized it was a hand, someone touching him and a soft gasp filled the blackness.

"S-senpai?" A wary whisper, nothing more than a surprised exhale. The voice was one he'd been well acquainted with, he thought. Mm, he was sure of it. There was no thought necessary as he turned her hand up, cupping the other and gave a gentle squeeze.

"Kuriyama." The sudden pressure on his chest surprised him, but what really caught him off guard was the soft, choked hiccups, the reluctance to cry behind the girl who had promptly flopped onto his chest. It wasn't lost before she was curled at his side, not speaking.

"They said you healed up alright. Not your eyes, though. N-not yet, anyway..." She went quite for a moment and he forced a chuckle.

"It'd be a shame not to look at you anymore, Kuriyama-san."

Her cheeks flooded a deep pink and she ducked her head, mumbling something into his shirt, but he paid it no mind, absently touching the cloth over his eyes. Suddenly her voice was in his head again and she spoke firmly, anger flaring slightly.

"Why were you playing that stupid game, Senpai? You... It was reckless. Someone else could have got the bullet. What if it had been Hiromi-senpai?" He tried to speak, but he was cut off by her sitting up, voice raised a bit louder as though it were all finally hitting her. "You know he can't do the same thing as you! He would have _died_, Senpai!" It _was_ just hitting her. She'd been in shock when he'd come to. Ayaka-san said he could be out for weeks, months even as he healed, and they wouldn't know until he'd woken up. Only four days had passed and he was back. It was a surprise to them all, but instead of relief, she was flooded with anger.

"What about anyone else? Were you thinking _at all_?" She huffed and grumbled under her breath before he reached out, fingers brushing up her leg in search of her hand. Instead, he caught her wrist and turned his head to her.

"I'm sorry. I... I wasn't thinking at all."


End file.
